


Sick of Being Polite

by Metanoiac



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: (deserved), Background Drift/Ratchet, Bittersweet, Complicated Relationships, Confrontations, Friendship, Other, nickel punches megatron
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-15 01:40:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29676429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Metanoiac/pseuds/Metanoiac
Summary: Nickel recognizes an old friend in one of the mechs that came with Megatron from the Functionist Universe.Damus, he calls himself.Tarn, she knows him as.(AKA Nickel gives Megatron his due.)
Relationships: Nickel & Tarn (Transformers)
Comments: 32
Kudos: 42





	1. let's make it public, let's take it outside.

**Author's Note:**

> Damus/Glitch was seen with Megatron in that universe. So, being a Megatron loyalist, why wouldn't he come with him back to the regular universe on the Last Light? 
> 
> Nickel still mourns Tarn and the rest of the DJD.
> 
> Oh, if only she knew what Megatron really did to them. She's an absolute menace and not even god can ease her fury.

Nickel did not believe in ghosts. If she did, then the _Peaceful Tyranny_ alone would be overpopulated and plagued with minor inconveniences such as things randomly disappearing.

(Nickel did not need ghosts for that. Oftentimes Vos took her tools for personal use and returned them coated in mysterious substances. He cleaned them for her after she'd barked at him for hours on end. It was a minor comfort because Nickel could only guess what said substance was.) 

Though Nickel did not believe in ghosts, something told her that she was seeing them regardless as there was something so startlingly familiar about the mech that came with Megatron on the _Last Light_. 

_Damus_ , he introduced himself in a tone all too cheery and unsuited for _that_ voice that it had sent the mechanical equivalent of _shivers_ through Nickel’s systems. 

_Wrong. It was wrong._

He asked her if his visage upset her. Perhaps he got that often as a victim of Empurata. Nickel wanted to reassure him, to ease his anxious fidgeting, but the words died on her glossa. 

No, all Nickel had said– _exclaimed_ – was a realization that threw her processor for a loop. A dull ache thunked at the inside of her helm and Nickel braced herself on the slab to her left. It was all too much for her to handle. 

“ _Tarn."_

The mech– _Damus_ – cocked his helm to the side. “Er, yes, that's where I’m from. _Was_ from.” 

Nickel’s knowledge of the functionist universe extended to what the crew had been willing to tell her, which, admittedly, was very little as they remained wary of her. She counted herself lucky they'd allowed her within quarters rather than outright tossing her in the brig. 

Putting together snippets of these cryptic conversations had her drawing the following conclusion: the functionist universe was parallel to their own with the only difference being that Megatron had never existed there. Without the Decepticon movement, without _Megatron_ , Cybertron turned out as a complete _shithole_.

And yet.

 _This was Tarn without Megatron’s influence._ No, Nickel quickly corrected herself:

_This was Tarn without Megatron’s manipulation._

She staggered back and would have hit the floor had one of Damus’ servos not reached out to grab her shoulder and keep her upright. It was an automatic response, Nickel guessed, because he tried to withdraw almost immediately after. Nickel placed a servo on top of his to prevent that. 

The look he gave her was reminiscent of a frown. Nickel knew that victims of Empurata often had no real discernible expression but she knew the mech he was– the mech he would become– well enough to recognize the shift in his demeanor.

“Are you–”

Nickel grabbed either side of his optic casting when he came close enough to whisper his concern and drew him in close. He was smaller than the _him_ she knew, much, much smaller, but still had an advantage over her in height, so it was all she could do to hug that _stupid_ helm to her chassis and offline her vision.

“ _What have they done to you?_ ” She asked. It wasn't him she asked, but a ghost, a ghost long-gone whom she'd hated for the longest time, or thought to have hated, but when Damus… when this mech revealed himself to her, Nickel realized that all that fury, all that fire and ice, was directed at the likes of Megatron.

( She’d know this all along. It was easier to blame a dead mech than a living one as it was all that kept her from pursuing Megatron in the same, obsessive way Tarn did. ) 

_Megatron,_ who took him from her. Who took all of them from her with no remorse. 

_Megatron,_ who created a monster out of an _innocent, anxious_ creature.

( Tarn had been anxious. Nickel knew this better than anyone. It was the way he acted on those anxieties that bordered him on instability. )

The little medic choked on a sob. Where she usually had a colorful vocabulary at her disposal there was none of that there, not now. Nickel had no words for Damus. 

Only regret. 

It dawned on him a moment later. He carefully eased out of her embrace to look at her and Nickel forced her arms to rest by her sides, suppressing the overwhelming urge to reach out again. 

“You knew me. The me from this world. Didn't you?”

Nickel nodded.

“Based on your reaction… is he gone?”

Again, Nickel nodded. 

Damus fell silent. Nickel reluctantly looked up to meet his gaze and he took one of her servos in both of his own, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “If you wish to, tell me about him.”

Nickel’s mouth went dry.

* * *

“ _What did you do to him?!_ ” Nickel demanded. Megatron cringed away from her with a wide-eyed look to his face and a sick sense of satisfaction washed over her at the sight.

 _Good. He deserves as much_.

“I don't–”

“Oh, but you do,” Nickel spat. She gained on Megatron and bullied him back against the bulkhead. He held his hands up in a feeble attempt to placate her. It only fed Nickel’s fury and she continued to rant, jabbing an accusatory digit up at his face. “Don't act like you don't know who I am. You knew. This whole time. Why did you stay quiet, huh? Cowardice? Fear of facing me? Running from your own mistakes?”

“I–”

“ _Shut your damned mouth_ , I’m not done!” Nickel raged. Megatron clamped his jaws shut. There were murmurs behind them as a crowd started to form, but Nickel didn't care. Let them watch. Let them talk. Though they're more than aware of who she is, they never saw her as a threat. While once that sentiment pissed her off, here, it worked in her favor. “For the record, I didn't think it was a mistake. You unwittingly gave me a place to belong to, before you took it from me. Like you did from them. From so many others.”

Megatron didn't meet her gaze. Nickel wished she could reach up and grab his helm, perhaps twist it at an unnatural angle and–

No, _calm._ Nickel drew a deep vent and forced herself to cycle out her intakes. 

“You can't tell him,” Megatron pleaded. His shoulders slumped. He looked _pathetic_. It wasn't a good look on him, and Nickel realized she wanted a fight out of this mech. This… _husk_. She ground her denta hard enough to produce an audible _crack._

“Why? So you don't have to deal with your own shortcomings, is that it? That he'd look at you with all the disgust you deserve because you had no problems turning innocents into monsters?!” 

Megatron turned his helm. “It would destroy him.”

He was right. Nickel had declined Damus’ offer to tell him about the person he was in this universe for that reason herself, but hearing it from _Megatron_ …

She almost reconsidered out of pure spite. 

But apparently Nickel’s gaze demanded more answers, so Megatron continued. “I did wrong. I hoped… with this, I could steer him on a better path. What I did to the one you knew… I did it to prove a point to someone.”

Nickel punched him. The impact was only a dull ‘thud’ to Megatron’s armored chest, but the sentiment landed regardless. Someone gasped. 

“You disgust me,” she sneered. “You strung him along again, and for what? To fix your own mistakes? Don't give me that _crap_ about wanting to help him, because you know damned well it wasn't about _him_ , but about your fragile _ego._ ”

Nickel spun on her wheels and left Megatron there with a few choice words as a parting gift. “You deserve everything that happened to you. And what's coming.”

It hadn't occurred to either of them that the very object of their discussions had been watching. To say he was disturbed would be putting it lightly, but if neither his leader nor his apparent friend would care to give him the details, he'd have to do his own research. 


	2. caught in the mirror, can't recognize your face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Curiosity leaves room for regrets. Damus discovers this first-hand, and later realizes that his processor may not really be entirely his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact: all these titles are taken from YONAKA's song Teach Me To Fight.
> 
> DISCLAIMER: this is not a redemption story. The POV will alternate between characters who have no regrets for their actions in the canon continuity, so it won't be explored like that. The focus point lies on their relationship, which, I reiterate, is platonic and will be throughout this fic. 
> 
> Enjoy!

There came a certain point where Damus thought his self-esteem could not stoop any lower. 

Evidently, he had been wrong. Life did always have a penchant for throwing things in his direction unwarranted to the point where he really ought to stop being so surprised by it.

Megatron had taught him how to use his ability; to control it and bend it to his will. But by performing a quick search of _Tarn_ – the mech, not the city– on the _Lost Light_ ’s database Damus accidentally fried part of the mainframe and sat there in shock until he was ushered to the medbay.

 _Perhaps for the best._ Megatron and Nickel had refused to tell him of his counterpart no matter how often he pried, his requests met with variants of ‘ _you really don't want to know_ ,' hidden behind a simple ‘ _all in due time'_.

He realized only then that they were protecting him rather than trying to get him off their backs as he assumed. But he had to pry. He had to look and find out the truth. Self-control is not a virtue Damus possessed, and his curiosity often tended to overshadow rational thought.

He realized belatedly that the medic was talking to him. Awareness crept back into the corners of his processor and urged him to look at… 

Nickel.

Odd. He could've sworn the medic around here was Ratchet.

“–Overdid it,” the medic’s tone indicated a lecture. A familiar one, guessed Damus, given how his processor told him she'd been going for a good few minutes now. He had the good grace to feel ashamed and inclined his helm. 

“I apologize.” To whom? To _Nickel_? Wasn't she supposed to apologize to him, instead?

_...For what?_

_Deceiving you, of course._

_But was it really deceitful if she was trying to protect you?_

_Protect me? Wasn't she friends with that… Tarn?_

No, it would do him no good mulling on these things lest he wanted to work himself into a deeper mental pit. He crinkled his optic at her in the vaguest hint of a ‘smile’, before he realized that–

He had a face again. The _Lost Light_ now had access to the necessary components and offered him repairs as a reward for his loyalty. Something in his processor told him that it was horribly _ironic_ , but he did not know why.

Nickel must have seen the turmoil on his face. Centuries without a face have made him far more expressive than he had been even before his Empurata and he reached up to cover his face in his servos. To his surprise, Nickel just laughed.

“Not used to that yet, huh?”

Damus dared to peek through his digits. He frowned. “Huh?” 

_Huh. Such a linguist_ , his thoughts mocked at him. Damus reset his vocalizer to correct his tone. “Ah, I– what did you mean by that?” 

“Having a face,” Nickel said. “It's kinda cute. Seeing _you_ lose control of your expressions.”

“ _Cute?!_ ” Damus sputtered, horribly offended. Yes, he was smaller than average and had somewhat of a clumsy air to him, but– _cute_?! His paintjob wasn't nice nor soft to the optic and he had a tendency to be so awkward it bordered on being an actual hindrance to everything in his life, especially interaction.

But here, Nickel called _him_ cute. 

_Compared to the other you._

Damus winced. He could not keep his earlier discoveries locked in a separate compartment of his processor and it took to the forefront again. He reacted physically in his discomfort and cringed away from Nickel’s grounding touch, scooting further back on the slab. 

Through the cracks in his digits he saw how her expression fell. Nickel retreated a bit further back and rummaged in a drawer of tools. For appearance’s sake, or to busy her servos, Damus guessed. He could relate.

“So, you found out.”

He lowered his servos and dropped them by his sides. “Not everything.”

“Look, I–”

“You said you cared for him.” It was strongly against his _ethics_ to interrupt mechs mid-sentence. Yet here he could not stand to hear more of her excuses and pressed on, optical ridges knitting together in an angry frown. “Did you?”

Nickel ex-vented wearily. “Yeah.”

_So a simple ‘yeah' is all you get? Ask her. Press for more. You need answers, don't you?_

Damus thunked his helm against the wall and offlined his vision. There was only one question he could think to ask. “Why?” Then, before she could misinterpret; “I’ve read files on him. Seen images. Of what he did. What–”

Nickel turned around and stared at him blankly. “Don't you care for Megatron?” Damus cringed back at the implications. Was it that obvious? 

_Or was it because the other him… had too?_

Nickel didn't wait for a response. “ _He_ made Tarn. I guess you only see him as this… glorified picture of perfection, but I hate his guts. He's a fragging hypocrite, Damus, and the sooner you realize that, the better.”

Damus rose to defend his captain. “Yes, Megatron is not perfect, but is perfection not–”

“–In the eye of the beholder?” Nickel guessed. He wisely shut his mouth as by the looks of it and the subtle tremor in her vocals, it wasn't something she wanted to hear. Nickel approached, pausing only when she was by the end of the slab he had retreated to and slammed her servos down on the edge. “I have _hope_ for you yet. _He_ couldn't see through Megatron. Couldn't see that he didn't give a slag about _any_ of us, and strung you– _him_ along, and fucked off into tomorrow, that's what he did! And you call that a capable leader? A reformed mech? _Bullshit._ ”

A foreign feeling washed over him. Damus realized it was fondness for the little medic, as if… 

_As if he'd known her as a close friend._

_These feelings weren't his._

Damus recoiled and grasped at his helm. Agony overtook him and his systems stood on high alert, his HUD flaring with warnings of a possible _intruder._

Nickel screamed something at him– at their surroundings, at a presence off-screen, but all that Damus could hear was a voice that did not belong to him, not to _this_ him, and that he…

The world spun. Static gained on his vision and coated his environment in a sea of nothingness, until his audials too stopped receiving.

Something closed around his throat and he could not speak. The pressure of the vice-like grip threatened to crush him but when he tried to reach for the arm attached to it he clawed at nothing but air.

There was something– no, that's not right.

There was some _one_ in his processor besides himself. Dread enveloped him and rendered his every process, every subroutine attempting to bring him back to consciousness completely useless.

He could only think of one thing.

“ _Tarn_ _."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, please consider leaving kudos/a comment if you enjoyed!


	3. let's make this personal, stop wasting my time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ratchet makes a disturbing discovery when running a scan of Damus' spark. Nickel deals with conflicting feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains very blatant Dratchet. Not enough to warrant a tag, I suppose, because it isn't the main focus of the fic and is unlikely to be explored further but yes they are In Love. 
> 
> Nickel refers to Drift as Deadlock, even though she knows he shed that name. Drift doesn't care enough to "correct" her. 
> 
> There's also a brief POV change from Nickel to Ratchet, but that's "isolated" appropriately.
> 
> Enjoy!

Nickel had seen her fair share of trauma victims. It wasn't uncommon for mechs to react with a complete system shut-down when the processor realized the visuals and audios received could potentially be a danger to their well-being. 

Tarn never let them get to that point. The processor and spark worked together in harmony, a perfect balance of emotion and reason. He let his voice resonate with the spark of a victim and lured it out of that space, effectively isolating the two components that kept internal systems working in harmony. He forced it to continue processing and gave no reprieve, at least not until the inevitable death of the poor victim. 

Some believed the words he spoke were a last comfort of sorts, especially after the horrors inflicted on them by Tarn’s sadistic crew. They would stare at him and find tranquility as his voice filled the space of their sparks, seeping into their processors and forcing their systems to _obey_.

It was unnatural. Nickel could handle the scraps the others left her. 

Partially melted, shredded to scrap, lacking a face, to name a few.

Tarn frightened her. His methods went against the norm and challenged boundaries of taboo even within a circle of deranged torturers, putting him in a league entirely of his own. Words were utilized far better than the sharpest weapon ever could and left nothing that could be traced back to him. 

He was a medic’s worst nightmare.

On another level too. Tarn took very little care of his own systems despite his insistence that he did. Nickel knew better. It had once taken her an entire afternoon to convince the stubborn commander to let her see to the scarring on his face. Nickel was led to believe she'd have more luck asking to see the insides of his array but didn't push her luck. Patience was key to dealing with Tarn. Patience Megatron never possessed.

And though _Damus_ may not be like _Tarn_ , Nickel sounded the alarm when he fainted on her without an ounce of hesitation. 

Before she had time to consider the consequences, one of the Autobot medics – _the grumpy one. Nickel liked him if only because she felt an odd sort of kinship, even if he was one of_ ** _them_** – rushed in. He was trailed closely by the one she knew to be Deadlock, a high-profile target on the DJD’s List. 

_Former List. No more DJD._ Nickel had to remind herself of this often. It was easier to fall back into old habits now that she'd come in contact with Damus.

To a degree, she felt guilty, knowing how the mech had reacted to Tarn’s extensive list of crimes.

Nickel's lack of acknowledgement prompted Ratchet to speak. “You sounded the alarm.” The medic did not bother to hide the growing irritation in his voice. Nickel met him with a sneer, unflinching. Deadlock stood tense by Ratchet’s side, keeping her under a watchful optic.

 _Ah, so they considered her a threat_. The thought filled Nickel with a perverse sort of glee. _Good_. Unlike most deserters that occupied this ship, Nickel still wore her brand with pride. Where the oppression of their race had apparently meant little enough to those _traitors_ that they saw fit to throw the Cause aside, those, like her, that held on to it and held it above more than Megatron had ever been, still pursued these goals throughout the universe. 

Even if Nickel was currently onboard a ship with more than just a handful of these deserters. 

Nickel wheeled over to Damus’ side. He was restless as signified by the way his optical ridges knit together. His denta audibly ground together, the force of which had the potential to leave permanent damage on structures in the form of tears and cracks.

“I didn't do it to _ambush_ you.” Nickel threw a withering glare at Deadlock. She didn't have time or energy to spare to argue with the pair of them and turned her focus back to Damus. “So you can tell your boyfriend to buzz off.” 

Their silence confirmed Nickel’s assumptions about the kind of relationship they had. Some kind of unspoken conversation must have transpired between them as Ratchet responded in Deadlock’s stead.

(Deadlock’s response should have been to leave, Nickel thought. But there were neither the sounds of pedefalls or the whooshing of a door to signify that outcome.) 

“Drift stays,” Ratchet said. He sounded closer to her than he had before and sure enough, when Nickel finally bothered to spare either of them a glance the medic stood on the opposite side of the slab, looking down at Damus. Nickel worried at her lips with her denta - part of her wanted to yell at him to back off, overcome with some sort of protective worry. 

_As if Damus couldn’t defend himself. She hadn’t even seen him in action._

Ratchet continued on, looking over at Nickel. Deadlock too had shuffled a little closer, invading Ratchet’s personal space. “If you didn’t sound the alarm to ambush us, I’d advise you to tell me why you did.” Nickel didn’t miss the underlying threat. Neither did Deadlock, apparently, because his optics flashed with an emotion she found frankly disgusting and inappropriate. 

She only cycled her optics at them and moved on to more pressing matters. “I don’t know,” she confessed. “He collapsed. Out of nowhere. Earlier, he lost control of his abilities, as far as I can tell, because there are a few of your internal systems fried.” Nickel did not intend to sound as smug as she did. Damus hadn’t meant to sabotage the _Lost Light_ , and yet here she was, proud that he inadvertently did so.

“So, that was _him_ ,” Deadlock muttered. Ratchet eased him down from his flare of anger by placing a servo on his shoulder and gently eased Deadlock to step back. Nickel sensed the underlying distrust in the traitor’s voice. 

_Let him act on it. Show his Autobot companion his true colors_.

...But, that would only bring her further from ensuring Damus’ safety. She couldn’t risk feeding the flames to a _lover’s dispute_.

Nickel scowled and clicked her glossa. Unfortunately, ignoring at least Ratchet wasn’t an option she had, as Nickel did not know her way around this medbay. If she wanted to check on Damus’ internal systems, she needed his help lest he wanted her to trash the whole place.

In fairness, she wasn’t opposed to that either. It could prove to be cathartic.

Ratchet addressed her again with considerably less scorn than his partner had. “Possibly a system overload. I believe it is a known side-effect to his abilities,” he deduced all too casually, giving Nickel grounds to believe Ratchet was decently familiar with his frame.

_You knew nothing of him. He never spoke a word of his past, did he? He may very well have known Ratchet, among others._

“Does _he_ know?” Nickel crossed her arms over her chest, partially obscuring the Decepticon insignia. She impatiently tapped at her arm while waiting for Ratchet to respond.

“He does - _did_ ,” the medic corrected himself and subsequently confirmed Nickel’s suspicions.

_Ratchet had known him. In the past._

Deadlock leaned in. The conversation clearly wasn’t meant to be _private_ as Nickel could hear every word between them.

“Ratch, you _know_ what he does, who-” Deadlock paused. He looked between Damus, Nickel, and Ratchet, narrowing his optics. Ratchet took over and squeezed Deadlock’s shoulder in a way Nickel assumed was meant to be comforting.

“Do you trust Megatron?” Ratchet asked. Nickel _almost_ burst into a hysterical fit of laughter. What kind of question was that?!

Deadlock nodded. “I do. He proved himself to us. That he is capable of change, of good.” 

“Then there is your answer. Trust in Megatron.” Ratchet’s optics crinkled in the faintest hint of a smile. He spoke the words as if they were detached from him - Nickel sympathized; any good word about Megatron felt like poison on her glossa - but they clearly meant a great deal to the swordsmech. 

Deadlock leaned in ever so subtly and pecked Ratchet’s cheek. “Thank you,” he whispered. Deadlock spun on his heel and left before either Nickel or Ratchet could comment, the doors shutting behind him.

* * *

He ran it again. 

And again.

 _There had to be some mistake_. Yet all scans of Damus’ spark came back the same and Ratchet was forced to face a horrifying reality that tempted him to either delete the scans or get rid of the mech occupying the slab. 

Suffice to say, tempting as it was, the latter option urged him to reconsider as he felt frankly disturbed that his processor jumped to that solution so quickly. 

“What? What is it?” 

Ah, Nickel. The DJD’s former medic took his silence as a bad sign, ever perceptive. Ratchet ex-vented wearily. He’d need to stop by Swerve’s after this. Maybe rack up a tab of his own. 

Hypocrite, he thought. He was the one always having to deal with overcharged mechs. Becoming one of them felt like a rebellious act of sorts, and he was far too old for that. 

Ratchet loaded the latest results on the screen and let his foul-mouthed companion see for herself.

* * *

Nickel staggered back. A myriad of emotions went through her processor all at once and took power from her limbs to untangle that mess. She braced herself on the desk, squinting at the display.

Two sparks. Although one was admittedly very faint, there were two sets of sparks, both belonging to the same mech.

 _“Tarn,”_ Nickel gasped. If Ratchet had noticed the elation in her voice he wisely decided against speaking of it.

“It would seem so.” Ratchet moved back to Damus’ side. Nickel’s helm shot up, wary of the doctor’s intent. 

Rightfully so, because the next second, Ratchet procured a set of stasis-cuffs from a cabinet. Nickel bristled. “What the hell are you _doing_?!” 

“Taking preventive measures,” Ratchet responded calmly, yet there was a notable tremble in his servos when he applied the cuffs. He continuously cast Damus wary glares as if the mech would suddenly jump up and murder him. 

Unlikely, thought Nickel. Even if Tarn was present within Damus’ spark, Ratchet had an advantage over him in height. Even if he used his voice there was no way he’d have enough time to properly apply it. 

_But that would apply to Tarn, wouldn’t it? Damus isn’t like him. He made it clear he doesn’t_ **_want_ ** _to be like him either._

_Why are you so desperately trying to chase him out?_

Nickel clenched and unclenched her servos, vision offline as she redirected all her energy to _calm the frag down_. 

“That isn’t ethical,” she argued after a moment, pouring a hefty amount of venom into her vocals. She may not have Tarn’s ability, but she sure as hell has a colorful vocabulary at her disposal that she is damned proud of. “And isn’t that what you are all about, huh?” 

Ratchet didn’t flinch, but he did hesitate for a moment. He slowly turned his gaze back at Nickel and all she could see reflected back at herself was just how _tired_ he looked. “Believe me, I don’t want this any more than you do. Punishing someone for something they have no control over.” 

“Then-” 

Ratchet held up a servo to silence her and continued to speak with added intensity. “But I can’t endanger the lives of my _friends_ because of one individual. When he wakes up again, who knows what - or _who_ \- he’ll be. I’m not going to _kill_ him, Nickel. None of us are. We just have to be cautious.” 

Nickel struggled to find an argument. 

_Who do you feel sorry for? Damus? Tarn?_

No, that wasn’t the question she should ask herself. 

The question she should have asked herself was far scarier.

_Who do you want him to be when he wakes up?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed this chapter, let me know in the comments!

**Author's Note:**

> I am considering to make this a multi-chapter fic if there is any interest! For now it is left at this, but I would like to continue with Damus learning about this world's Tarn, and being absolutely lost on what to do with this knowledge and himself by extension. 
> 
> Please consider leaving kudos/a comment if you liked this!


End file.
